Easter 5 B: As I Abide in You
Dear Partner in Preaching,
“As I abide in you.”
That’s the line in this week’s Gospel reading that helps me find a way to preach this passage. Without it, much of what Jesus says feels like a threat. You know what I mean? Abide in me or else – be pruned, wither, be thrown into the fire, and die! All voiced as a threat to bully people into staying loyal and faithful.
But Jesus doesn’t just say “Abide in me.” Rather, he says, “Abide in me, as I abide in you.” And that changes everything. The other statements about pruning and withering and the rest are not threats of intimidation but rather statements of fact, descriptions of what happens when we do not abide in Jesus, when we are separated from his love and acceptance, we run or hide or think we can do it on our own or decide to stand alone or whatever. Branches don’t do that well when separated from the vine. At best they, like cut flowers, have a burst of color and bloom but then fade and wither.
Consider the context of this passage, both narratively and historically. Narratively, Jesus is preparing his disciples for his departure and wants to assure them of his presence, even when life gets hard (and it’s about to get very hard). Historically, the community for which John writes has likely been thrown out, rejected by friends and family, and feels pretty alone and orphaned. They are, quite literally, feeling like they are being cut down. And John, through his retelling of Jesus’ words of farewell and comfort, is offering a different frame of reference by which to reinterpret their experience. It’s not being cut downed, but pruned. At the same time, John is making a promise: Jesus is with you, for you, abiding in you, and will not let you go. Important words for people who feel cut down by circumstances.
And that group, of course, isn’t limited to Jesus’ disciples two thousand years ago but aptly describes the feelings harbored by many of Jesus’ disciples today who will be sitting in our pews. The single mom or dad struggling to make ends meet and provide a nurturing environment for the kids while struggling with a profound and entirely unexpected loneliness. The kid who’s been cyber bullied for so long just for being different that he or she is beginning to believe what the haters are saying. The professional whose employment was terminated and, despite the headlines saying the economy is at full employment, has no decent job prospects. The recently and unexpectedly bereaved and devastated parent. The caretaker who is losing a beloved spouse day by day, little by little to Alzheimer’s.
There are, of course, countless examples of persons who feel cut down – maybe mowed down – by life and by circumstances, and John offers them, too, a different frame. Jesus is with you, abiding you, holding onto you, loving you, and will not let you go. Which means that what feels like a death cut is mere pruning, that growth is ahead, that new life will come.
And maybe you feel that way from time to time yourself, Dear Partner. Pushed and pulled and pruned beyond baring by trying to make the budget end in the black or settle an argument in the congregation or better balance the relational responsibilities of home and work or just carry on being faithful to the people who depend on you when you feel unbelievably lonely. Jesus’ words of comfort and presence are for you, too, for he is with you and for you and will not let you go.
“Abide in me.” Alone, these words are, at best, good advice or encouragement and, at worst, a threat. But, “Abide in me, as I abide in you….” Ah, these words are pure promise, gracious words of presence and providence. Words that need to be shared, whether shouted from the rooftops or whispered in a moment of tender and vulnerable stillness. “Abide in me, as I abide in you.” Thank you for sharing Jesus’ promise, as your words will make more of a difference than you can imagine.
Yours in Christ,
David
Part of the mystery of faith and the gospel.
Thank you. A word of grace before I dare to share grace with others.